


Spring Fling

by veronamay



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Blow Jobs, Ficlet, M/M, Mostly Dialogue, Not Beta Read, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-15
Updated: 2005-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-27 05:23:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House and Wilson go camping.  And ... stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring Fling

**Author's Note:**

> Pr0ndrop for [](http://foxsyd.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://foxsyd.livejournal.com/)**foxsyd**.

"Whose idea was this again?" Wilson asked, spitting a stray leaf out of his mouth. He made a face and sat up, feeling around for the bottle of water he'd brought.

"Yours," House said. "Get back to nature, you said. Embrace the wild outdoors, something something something." He flapped a hand, pale in the moonlight. "I don't remember the rest, I was too busy getting drunk." The hand disappeared again.

"Right." Wilson rinsed out his mouth and spat to one side. His teeth felt gritty. "Would that include the part where I talked about sleeping in a tent?"

"Tents are for sissies." House's voice came from someplace warm-sounding and cosy, and Wilson hurriedly rinsed again and lay back down. Spring it might be, but the chill in the air was enough to make him glad of House's body heat, if nothing else.

"Tents are for sensible people who aren't trying to prove their gung-ho manliness," Wilson corrected, huddling into House's lanky frame. "You smell like a brewery."

"Yeasty and full of hops?" House asked, pulling Wilson close. His erection nudged Wilson's belly.

"Full of something, anyway," Wilson said, and reached down. House inhaled and pushed forward into Wilson's cold hands.

"Don't worry, it's only rising damp," he said. Wilson tutted disapprovingly.

"A costly and recurring problem in older structures, with limited success rates for most treatments. Not an ideal diagnosis."

"Speak for yourself," House grunted, his breath starting to come quicker. "I could get used to this method."

_So could I_ , Wilson thought, and slipped one hand down to play with House's balls. He thought of Stacy with a brief moment of shame, overrun by a surge of possessiveness. _I saw him first, dammit._

He'd dropped the conversational ball, and that wouldn't do. Wilson struggled to remember what House had said. Something about ... right, right, right, got it.

"Cheap, effective and with no lasting ill effects," Wilson said, and tilted his head in consideration. "Not for you, anyway. I could end up with carpal tunnel syndrome at this rate."

"I know a really good surgeon," House promised him, hips twisting on the downstroke. "I know about a dozen, actually. I can get you in anytime."

"You could just fit me with a robotic arm," Wilson suggested. "Like Luke Skywalker. Or would that be too kinky?"

"No, no, it's a great idea. Totally you," House said, and gasped in surprise as Wilson pressed down hard on his perineum. "Oh, God, you're a sneaky sonofabitch."

"Stealthy, a Jedi must be," Wilson said in his best Yoda voice, and that was it, House was done for. A low groan gave Wilson some warning, and he ducked his head under the sleeping bag in time to take House's cock in his mouth and swallow as he came, once, twice, a couple of licks to tidy up. He came back up and found House glaring at him even as his mouth curled into a reluctant grin.

"Yoda." House's voice was quiet. "You made me think of _Yoda_."

"It was supposed to slow you down," Wilson said, crossing his fingers.

House raised an eyebrow at him, eloquently silent.

"Okay, maybe not," Wilson confessed after a second. "But it was funny."

"Says you."

"We could do it again for an audience, find out for sure. I'm sure Cuddy would give us an honest opinion." Wilson started to get up, but House yanked him back down and rolled over so that he crushed Wilson into the ground.

"Uh-uh, sunshine," he said cheerfully. "You wanted to camp; we're camping. We're staying out here all night. And you have to get breakfast in the morning," he added.

"Sure," Wilson replied, breathless. "Fine. Whatever." The advantages of his situation began to dawn on him, and he pressed his hips up into House's weight. "Feel like a snack right now, though?"

House pulled Wilson's hands down by his sides and smirked, sliding down under the sleeping bag.

"Be vewy vewy qwiet," his voice floated up. "We're hunting wabbits!"

Wilson closed his eyes and tried very hard not to think of Elmer fucking Fudd.

END


End file.
